


Sweet Thing (Reprise)

by zakhad



Series: Diamond Dogs Album [5]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-02 06:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14538585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/zakhad
Summary: See summary of the first story in the series.





	Sweet Thing (Reprise)

**Author's Note:**

> If you want it, boys, get it here, then  
> For hope, boys, is a cheap thing, cheap thing
> 
> Is it nice in your snow storm, freezing your brain?  
> Do you think that your face looks the same?  
> Then let it be, it's all I ever wanted  
> It's a street with a deal, it's got taste  
> It's got claws, it's got me, it's got you

Deanna said farewell to Chakotay shortly after they arrived in Paris. He had served his purpose, and done it well. Such an easy mark. It almost made her feel guilty when they were so easily manipulated. He went along with breaking up just as well as he had with getting together, no fuss, no awareness of her minor adjustments to his mind along the way. Unlike Picard he was apparently unable to tell when she was nudging him into thinking or feeling exactly what she wanted him to. So it was good bye, and he took his bag and left the hotel room to her, heading back to San Francisco. He didn't have to stay to meet people as she'd made him believe he did, last week.

And he was so sweet about it, wishing her well. Pity that he was no longer useful.

The next day she returned to the soon-to-be headquarters of the new world order, where the luminaries were gathering. All the major players in the revolution, plus a few delegates from other worlds -- Vulcan had been nearly decimated by the Empire, their fleet gone. A new movement had apparently started there as well. Andor, too. Betazed hadn't been mentioned yet in the newsfeeds so far as she could see, and she'd watched for hours each day. So there was a good chance she could make her plan work.

As she approached the doors of the grand marbled building, intimidating with rows of pillars and great stone lions on pedestals and surrounded by guards, she was delayed by security. She watched them scan each person with a tricorder. Of course she had no use for weapons, and let them scan her -- she sensed that the officer found her very attractive, and smiled at him as she held out her arms, turned in place, hitched a hip and showed off the skin-tight shimmering gray sheath that she had found in one of the stores earlier in the day. The officer bowed and stepped out of the way, and she sauntered inside slowly. Being calm and confident was the goal.

The foyer was crowded, but she made her way in, and the cavernous ball room was echoing with the sound of heels on tile, the murmur of conversation, and the low notes of a cello from a corner. There was a meeting going on, no doubt. One that she would feign being late for, though she was never invited, and with a subtle telepathic nudge she would ensure no one would question.

She had in mind a number of potential targets. The news was making much of Sarek, the delegate from Vulcan. The candidates for the elected leader of the Federation would all be present, drawn from three worlds - any one of them would be adequate, but such a position would be a little more exposure than she liked. She thought that a very good target would be the one most were saying would be the ambassador for Earth, none other than Jean-Luc Picard.

"Well, hello," came a greeting from her right -- she turned from scanning the room to find herself being touched on the arm by a little man with very, very big ears. He grinned, and showed off a mouth full of yellowed peg teeth with huge gaps between them. When he saw her eyes, he went a little wide eyed himself. "You are beautiful."

"Thank you," she replied with less enthusiasm than usual. But she managed a smile. "You are not human -- you are one of the delegates?"

"I am, I am, from Feringinar -- and I have heard that I might be the next Grand Nagus," he exclaimed.

"How wonderful for you. Would you happen to know where the meeting is, I fear that I am a little late," she said, tucking her hands behind her back. "I'm from Betazed. Deanna Troi," she added, smiling again.

"Rom, at your service," he said as he bowed slightly and brushed at the long gilded jacket he wore. "And, and, I believe you are more than a little late. The meeting is over, that is why we are gathering here."

She couldn't read him. It was frustrating. But he showed his emotions in his face, and his manner, and in the way he fidgeted. She had never heard of Feringinar. 

She put on a pout. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"But at least you're here for the party," Rom exclaimed, waving his hands a little. "Would you, uh, care to dance?"

"Oh, perhaps later, if that's all right. I must find Sarek. Would you excuse me? It's so nice to have met you," she enthused, as she turned away, and left the little man dithering nervously.

The Vulcan was there in the corner, surrounded by people. She quickly scanned the group on the approach, very surface, hopefully undetectable. Sarek was shielded well. The rest --

Deanna smiled serenely as she approached, keeping her eyes on Sarek, but happy to note that Picard was present, somewhere in the knot of people, she sensed, but she didn't look directly at him, on purpose. Sarek noticed her as she closed the distance between them and watched her steadily, impassive as she would expect.

"Forgive me," she said warmly, coming to a stop and folding her hands meekly. "I'm unfamiliar with Vulcan honorifics -- I am Deanna Troi, from Betazed. May we speak?"

He studied her silently for a moment. He was too suspicious. Too much of his mind was hidden. He was nothing like Tuvok, the only other Vulcan she'd met; there had been enough of Tuvok to detect that she thought Sarek might be workable, but clearly, some Vulcans were more disciplined than others.

"I do not recognize you. Are you a delegate?" Sarek intoned coldly.

"I was delayed -- I tried to be here on time, but -- my apologies for bothering you," she said, casting her eyes downward. She turned away slowly, and started to walk with deliberately-short steps toward the refreshment table at the far side of the room, giving plenty of time for someone to intercept her. She sensed a few familiar people in the room, but tracked Picard, and to her satisfaction he was approaching her. As she reached the bar, made eye contact with the bartender, he arrived beside her. She turned, wide-eyed, and regarded him with a pleased smile.

"I did not expect to see you here," he said. He wore a suit -- very much an upgrade from the plain clothes he'd worn before. He glanced about, then back to her. "Did Chakotay come with you?"

"No, he did not," she said quietly, sadly, letting a few tears well up. She snatched a napkin from the bar and dabbed the corner of her eyes, and addressed the man in the white apron. "I would like something that has no alcohol - something sweet. Do you have any tea?"

The man turned to a small replicator unit behind him, and handed over something in a glass for her to sample. It would do, not a drink she would get again. She gave Picard a fleeting smile and turned away. He watched her go without a word.

It took a while, to re-establish contact with him. She could sense that he was suspicious, but the implication that she was upset about Chakotay not being present had tempered it. She spent time in small talk here and there, introducing herself to people and indulging the ones that wanted to talk endlessly about things she didn't care about. Gradually she worked her way around the edge of the room, declining politely to dance, and spending the few moments she wasn't occupied by someone's idle conversation looking downcast and thoughtful, while cursorily scanning the room. All the while she studied the minds of the men she thought might be adequate to her purpose.

Finally she made another pass at the bar, got something different to drink, and found a chair. She'd monitored her potential targets long enough. She could tell which ones had little potential.

She watched Sisko cross the room with a short redheaded woman in a dark green pantsuit, and she could tell they were not a couple, that Sisko was tolerating rather than appreciating her -- that would make her someone to reckon with, Deanna thought. She'd had brief contact with him before when he'd come to speak to Picard, several months ago. Picard had left with him and she had stayed for a while, watching the slow recovery from the fall of the Empire from a comfortable vantage point; Chakotay had become Somebody, in the forming government on Earth. Just not enough of somebody for her liking. Sisko was one of the candidates for the office of the president of the Federation. He might be amenable to her influence, but he was like Picard, strong minded and aware, and it would have to be done carefully. If she wanted to wait until the election was over, if he lost the race, it was a possibility.

She watched Picard move away from Sarek past the Ferengi who'd approached her, past the group of svelte, smiling, posing women chatting around a table, and intercept Sisko and the woman. They happened to be near the food table. Deanna decided it was past time for her to have something to eat.

She made her way over slowly, hesitating here and there to smile and greet people as if she knew them, and studied what was left of the food. As she selected a few items and placed them on a plate, she sensed them approaching.

"Deanna," Picard said, summoning her attention. She turned -- the red-haired woman smiled at her. The most subtle and superficial of scans of her mind revealed that this was an intriguing and intelligent woman. Nearly as attractive to her as Picard, really. Deanna smiled as if greeting an old friend.

"Hello again, Mr. Picard," she said smoothly, warmly, with emotions she didn't feel. "Who is this lovely lady?"

"This is Kathryn Janeway," Picard said. "She is one of the many who have been collaborating to organize the new government. Helping us write the charter, and negotiating with the other worlds who are wanting to form a Federation."

Deanna reacted with joy to the news. "How pleased I am to meet you, madame, thank you so much for your efforts."

"So you are the Betazoid delegate?" the woman said, returning the warm smile, her voice gravelly and low.

"My world is in chaos, at the moment. I have been unable to communicate with them in months. So I came, as I knew it would be unlikely that anyone else would be able to -- and I see that I was correct," Deanna said, glancing around the room, putting on a sad face. "And it was difficult to travel from San Francisco -- the transportation system is still so spotty that I'm afraid I missed the official meetings today."

She could tell the tension that both of them felt eased; explanations helped. Chaos, and no communications from Betazed, helped. Kira's idea to break into the worldwide computer network and introduce a virus that kept Betazed isolated had been a good one. Disabling communications had multiple advantages. It kept them from contacting other worlds, making it easier to work without anyone being able to contact Betazed to verify things.

Janeway gestured vaguely at the door. "I'd like to talk to you, if you have a moment, about your world?"

Deanna went with her. Picard stood there watching them leave. "Do you know him well?" she asked.

"Jean-Luc? Not really -- I met him just a few weeks ago, why?"

"He seems quite reserved."

Janeway grinned, as she led the way out of the ballroom. "Oh, he's an old stick in the mud. Tell me something, I've heard Betazoids are telepathic -- is that true?"

"They are. However, my father wasn't Betazoid. He was human. And so that means that I am more empathic, which is different." It was true, and a way of getting around the fact that she was more than telepathic really. Standard was vague enough that she could hedge around actually describing herself. It wouldn't have been possible on Betazed, where most of communication was multi-modal, and everyone could tell immediately that she was hiding something.

"I wasn't aware that was possible." Janeway rounded a corner and they strolled down a hallway, windows on one wall and paintings on the other.

Deanna shrugged. She didn't find it necessary to explain that her mother had found out the hard way, after being raped by a Starfleet officer years before. Lwaxana had been most upset until she discovered the daughter she didn't want could be useful. 

"Tell me," she said, taking Janeway's arm, "do you find me attractive?"

Janeway halted in her tracks and turned to regard her with the anticipated shock -- in the seconds she gazed in her eyes, Deanna also slipped into her mind and could sense that she did so undetected. And in a heartbeat Janeway had to answer honestly that she did. 

Also, in a few more heartbeats, Deanna had the full measure of what Janeway was about.

The humans she had scanned in any depth so far had in common a great deal of hope -- one and all, the anticipation of change for the better. Hope could be blinding, and as long as she could maintain the appearance of being more like them than not, it was a great tool.

So easy.


End file.
